For A Good Cause
by Ms.GrahamCracker
Summary: No one is laughing when a practical joke takes a serious turn.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; Numb3rs belongs to those who created it – not me.

Warnings; mild language and mild implications of violence

No spoilers

All of the above remain in effect for the duration of this story.

A/N; Just a small adventure with a little bit of fun and a lot of angst. This is my first intentional multi-chaptered story. (six in all) Hope you enjoy.

**Summary; No one is laughing when a practical joke takes a serious turn**

**For A Good Cause**

**chapter one**

Don Eppes signed his name on the bottom of the check and returned his pen to his jacket pocket. He tore the check carefully from the rest of the checkbook and handed it to his friend and fellow law enforcement officer, Lt. Gary Walker, of the LAPD gang division.

"Are you sure this is how you want to do this, Eppes?" Walker asked, taking the check from the agent's hand. "This isn't exactly normal procedure in this situation."

Don nodded. "Yeah, Gary. I'm sure. In fact, I added a little more than I originally planned on." He changed the timbre of his voice slightly, punctuating each word carefully, so there would be no mistaking what he was about to say. "I want the Full Monty. I want him arrested, searched, cuffed, and read his rights. Make it as real as you can. And I want it done this morning, in front of everybody."

Walker looked at the amount of the check and whistled. He shook his head and remarked. "I guess you are serious." Then, to be sure the FBI agent was fully aware of what was about to happen, he explained. "You understand we'll only hold him for a couple of hours or so, and bail will be set when he is booked. It can be paid anytime after the first hour that he is in custody."

Don nodded in agreement. He turned his wrist and looked at his watch. "Do you need anything else from me? If not, I'd better get back to work." The unspoken word "alibi" hung between them and they both grinned.

Walker shook his head. "No, I'll take it from here. I'll have the warrant filled out for his arrest and a unit will roll on it immediately. We should have him locked up in less than two hours."

Don nodded again, then extended his hand. "Thanks, Gary. I owe you one."

"No problem, Eppes. We appreciate your support and generous donation."

As Don turned to leave, Gary asked him one more question. "Do you want me to call you when he is in custody?"

A thin, playful smile crept across Don's face and he shook his head slowly. "No, I plan to be very busy today. I think it's best that I keep my distance from this one. I'm going to call Mildred Finch, though, the head of the mathematics department at CalSci, and let her know what's going on."

Gary nodded in silent approval and Don headed for the door.

Walker sat down at his computer and began to fill in the information requesting an arrest warrant. In a short time, it was on it's way to dispatch and a minute later the call went out to the nearest unit to CalSci University for the arrest and apprehension of Professor Charles Eppes.

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Nelson Clark, a second year math student at CalSci, sat in the back of the lecture hall, and watched the doorway with anxious anticipation. He glanced one more time at his watch and grinned. This could be his day. He felt lucky.

The students that attended Professor Eppes' weekly 9 AM lecture on Fluid Dynamics had recently started a small betting pool, for lunch money, based on the time of his arrival. The professor usually rushed in, disheveled and disorganized, a few minutes late, and began the lecture slightly out of breath. He was never more than 5 minutes late, so the times available for the pool had been broken into increments of minutes and seconds. Today, Nelson had drawn 4 minutes 22 seconds. When 4 minutes passed, and the seconds continued to tick away, he sat back in his chair, accepting the probability that he would have to dip into his own meager supply of money for lunch.

When the door to the lecture hall opened at 4 minutes, 20 seconds past 9, Nelson sat up with interest, but it was Dr. Mildred Finch who came in, not Professor Eppes. She walked in with purpose, her stride strong and determined, and stopped abruptly when she saw the lecture podium empty. She looked at the students and gave them a small, awkward smile, but didn't offer any other explanation. The door opened again, at 4 minutes, 36 seconds, and this time, instead of Professor Eppes, it was two LAPD officers. Dr. Finch turned to the students, then, and uttered a cautionary and mysterious, "All is not what it seems."

Every student in the hall watched with peaked curiosity as one of the policemen spoke to Dr. Finch. "We are looking for Professor Charles Eppes."

With a conspiratorial smile, she answered. "It would appear Dr. Eppes is running a little late this morning, gentlemen. I'm sure . . ."

The door opened a third time and Charlie Eppes breezed into the room, his head bent with the effort of carrying two back packs, one actually on his back, and the other hanging off his arm, which also held nearly a ream of loose, jumbled papers against his chest.

"Good morning." He spoke to his students, no hint of apology for his tardiness evident in his smile, then stopped when he noticed the trio of unexpected guests.

"Professor Eppes?"

The sight of two policemen and his department head standing in his lecture hall gave Charlie a start. The implications took his breath away and he dropped everything to the floor, staggering backwards.

" N...No." he stuttered.

Millie was already moving forward, expecting this reaction, her hands in front of her in a placating gesture. "No, Charlie. Everything is alright. Alan and Don are fine. It's alright. It's not what you think."

Taking a deep breath and allowing the oxygen to his brain again, Charlie looked expectantly to her, hoping for a more detailed explanation. It was one of the policemen who gave it. "Charles Eppes. You're under arrest."

"I'm what!?"

The two officers moved toward him. "You're under arrest, sir. Please turn around and put your hands on the wall."

Shocked, Charlie offered no resistance as they turned him towards the wall and began a systematic search, beginning with his arms and chest. When they reached his hips, though, he reacted and tried to turn around again. Strong arms prevented him from doing that, and they continued the search, patting their way down his legs.

"Wait a minute!" he cried, indignantly. He turned towards them again as they finished. "There's been some kind of a mistake."

"No mistake sir. We have a warrant for your arrest. I suggest you come with us quietly."

"On what charge?" he demanded.

Neither officer answered. They reached for him again and turned him around once more. With movements that had been honed through training and experience, they had his hands behind his back and the handcuffs snapped in place before he could react.

"Is that really necessary?" Millie frowned, uncertain, as she watched one of the officers take Charlie by the arm.

"Yes, Ma'am. We were told specifically to make sure he was restrained."

"Millie. Call Don." He looked at the two officers again and in his best _my big brother_ _can beat up your big brother_ voice, he said; "My brother is an FBI agent. He'll straighten all of this out."

"I don't think Don's going to be much help, Charlie." Millie answered, weakly.

"Of course, he can help. Just tell him I've been arrested for. . . wait a minute." He turned back to the two policemen, anger emanating from every pore." You still haven't told me what the charge is."

"That would be ' destruction of personal property', sir."

"Destruction of . . . what the hell?"

"I believe the warrant reads "Suspect willfully and maliciously removed Miss December from the center of a 1986 issue of Playboy belonging to the plaintiff, said suspects 16 year old brother, causing mental anguish and preventing the physical and emotional release necessary to a normal teenage male."

Charlie stared, silently, wide eyed and open mouthed, at the two men.

There were a few snickers from the students and Charlie turned to them. Audrey Bennett, a pretty 19 year old in the second row spoke up. "I know what this is." she said, smiling. "This is the fund raising thing, isn't it?"

"Fund raising?" Charlie asked in an irritable tone.

"Yeah. We used to do this back in Ohio." another student said. "Police fund raiser, right?

"Enlighten me." Charlie all but growled.

"You make a donation to the police department or a special charity and you select someone you want to have arrested. I think they even make up a fake arrest warrant and everything. They take them down to the police station and they hold them there for a few hours, then they can be bailed out. It made our police department lots of money when they did it. People love to have other people arrested."

Charlie turned first to the two silent officers, then Millie, fire all but shooting out of his eyes. "Is that what this is? Somebody paid to have me..." A rush of realization hit him and he blurted out, " DON paid to have me arrested, didn't he?''

Millie winced at the fury she saw in her colleague's manor. "Now Charlie, it's . . ."

Beyond angry now, he turned to the policemen. "What if I refuse to go? What if I refuse to be a part of this . . . insanity?"

Millie chuckled. With her voice full of soothing humor, she entreated, "Charlie, come on, it's for a good cause."

He looked at her, his expression one of disbelief but decidedly calmer than it had been.

"All of the proceeds this year," one of the officers finally said, "are going to the WSF Fund, for widows, spouses and families of officers killed or injured in the line of duty."

Charlie sobered. He remembered just last month an officer Don knew well had been injured in a high speed chase with a drug dealer. The officer survived the horrible crash but would have to spend months in therapy with the possibility of never being able to return to police work. He had three young children.

Charlie hung his head, slightly embarrassed by his earlier actions, but still harboring a feeling of righteousness. If he had known that this was planned he would have gone along with it, and not made such a commotion. It wasn't the joke or the laughs that his brother had been after, he knew, it was the embarrassment and humiliation of having him arrested in his classroom, where he worked, where he was the "math god". The same feeling Don would experience if this had been done to him in his FBI cubicle, in front of his fellow agents.

Charlie raised his head, a small self conscious smile forming across his face and he addressed the two policemen. "Alright, gentlemen." he acceded. " Do your duty." He turned once again to students, his usual good humor restored. "Under the circumstances I would say class is dismissed." At the resounding cheer, he said loudly, "Go. Spread the word around campus. I want to see all of you at the police station bailing me out." With a final lopsided smile, he teased, " Your final grade could depend on it."

As the students gathered their belongings and hurried toward the door, Nelson Clark suddenly realized in all the commotion, no one noticed the exact time the professor had walked in. He watched the policemen usher Professor Eppes out of the room and wondered about the practicality of practical jokes. Nelson was an only child and he had no experience in the workings of a sibling relationship. He did, however, have four cousins on his mother's side, that took practical jokes to extreme levels. He had seen many of those backfire, affecting both the joker and the intended victim. He hoped this little practical joke didn't backfire on the professor and his brother. He liked the unconventional and energetic teacher, so even though he didn't win this week's betting pool, he decided he would scrape enough money together to help bail him out.

tbc

A/N; the fun is over; the angst begins


	2. Chapter 2

For A Good Cause

**A/N; Thanks to all the wonderful reviews. I have to admit, doing a chaptered story worried me. I wasn't sure I could keep your interest. Hopefully, you'll all stay with me a little longer. **

**Quick note to Rhapsodista - yes, these fund raisers do exist. I know from personal experience. But they are more like Don's explanation in this chapter, or the "prisoners" are held in a school instead of the police station. And to ALEO – yes, the victims of this type of fund raiser are usually aware of the impending arrest and handcuffs are NEVER used. But when have the Eppes boys done anything the normal way?**

**Once again, thank you for the reviews – now on with the angst.**

**Chapter two**

Don placed another stack of case files on the long table. The pile threatened to teeter over into the one sitting next to it, but he caught the errant folders and straightened them out.

Charlie had been complaining about the way data was stored in the FBI database, so he had developed a new streamline method of data entry that would save hours of cross referencing information during an investigation. The problem was, all of the old data had to be re-entered into the new software.

During a rare week of low case loads, Don's team had been assigned the job of pulling all the old files and sorting out the relative information to be given to data entry.

Megan Reeves had taken a few days off. Her and Larry Fleinhardt were taking a small road trip up the coast to a small bed and breakfast in southern Oregon. Don, David and Colby kept busy all morning, working their way through hundreds of case files. They were looking forward to an actual lunch break, something they didn't always find time for when they were involved in a case. Don had had a few fleeting moments, during the morning, when his brother's "arrest" crossed his mind and he would grin, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. Not really finding anything humorous about the tedious paperwork, David and Colby finally asked him what was so funny and he told them about the fund raiser.

"There has to be a special category under Karma for having your kid brother arrested." Colby said dryly.

Don's grin was bursting with satisfaction and his eyes crinkled. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"How angry is he going to be?" David asked.

"I think he will probably be pissed off, but he's actually a good sport and when he finds out it's for a good cause, he'll calm down."

Colby pulled a new case file from the stack in front of him and said; "Reeves and Fleinhardt are going to miss all the fun. Megan should have picked another weekend to use her wild card and drag him out of the monastery for that run up the coast."

"Yeah," Don agreed. "I think they could have had some fun with this, too. And Dad is in St. Louis, at a convention with his book club. I think even he would see the humor in having Charlie arrested and cuffed in front of his students."

"So, you going down to bail him out?" David smiled.

Don shook his head. "Nope. I figured I'd let Millie and Amita handle that. Millie said they'll announce it at school and she is sure some of the students will participate, as well. I think it's best if I don't get within firing range, if you know what I mean. He's already called me twice, and I let it go to voice mail. But, later, if you guys want to . . ."

"It might be kind of cool to see the famous Professor Eppes behind bars." Colby smiled.

"Nah, he won't be behind bars." Don said. " Years ago, when I was in New Mexico, some of my agents donated money to the Albuquerque PD and had me arrested for their annual fund raiser. After they hauled me down to the station, I spent 2 hours sitting in an air conditioned lounge with the day shift, drinking coffee, eating doughnuts and swapping stories until Kim Hall and some friends bailed me out." He smiled, a knowing grin and added. "The only hardship for Charlie will be there isn't any chalk boards at the station."

Don closed up the file he was working on and added. "I figured I'd take him out tonight for a couple of beers. Kiss up a little. You know how he can get. I don't want him to freak out and call Dad."

"That's for sure." David laughed. " Alan won't leave you boys alone again if you don't play nice."

They all smiled at that thought, then returned to their work.

When Don's cell rang just before lunch, he reached for it and glanced at the ID. Mildred Finch. Probably telling him Charlie is out of "jail" and still mad at him. "Hey, Millie."

Millie's voice was sharp and precise, not laced with the humor he expected. "Don. You had better come to the police station. There's something wrong."

He tensed, his senses tingling, but he kept his voice calm, almost casual. "What's up? Charlie freaking out on you?"

"Don. He's not here. They can't find him."

That was the last thing he expected and he almost laughed. "What do you mean they can't find him?"

David and Colby looked up and watched him as he listened to Millie again.

"They have looked everywhere."

"Well, then, someone has already bailed him out."

"No. They are keeping records of the donations, you know, for the IRS and they don't show anyone bailing him out."

"Maybe he bailed himself out." Don offered.

"They would have a record of that, too, Don, and there just isn't anything."

"Did you try calling him?"

"That just it. They made him put all his belongings in a box when they booked him, just like real, you know, and the box is still here, with his wallet and cell phone."

Both of them were silent for a few seconds. Don didn't want to jump to conclusions and let his big brother instincts take control, but Millie sounded so distraught.

" I don't know, Don. I feel like... something isn't right, you know?"

Don nodded, knowing she couldn't hear it, but it gave him a few seconds to get his emotions in check. Before he spoke again, he sighed and dragged his fingers down the sides of his mouth in frustration.

"Alright. Listen, I'll be right there." He looked at his watch. "Give me fifteen minutes." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Hey, Millie, don't worry. it'll be alright. It's Charlie, you know."

He snapped the phone closed and reached for his suit jacket hanging over the back of his chair. "I have to go. Seems like the LAPD has misplaced my brother. You guys want to come?"

Colby moved forward to stand beside him, obviously ready to go, but David held back. "You guys go on. I'll hold the fort down here. I've seen Charlie mad before. It's not a pretty sight."

"Suit yourself." Don shrugged, then pointed to the table and said; "See what you can do with those files while we're gone." As he and Colby headed for the elevators, Don was speed dialing Lt. Gary Walker.

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Don was surprised to see a large group of students still waiting with Millie and Amita when he and Colby arrived. Walker was bent over a computer terminal, his brow furrowed, an angry expression etched on his face. But it was Amita's frightened eyes, as she watched the Lt., that made Don's stomach clench.

"Hey, Gary, what's going on?"

Walker looked up, but before he could say anything, Amita ran to Don. She clutched the front of his jacket, "Don, they sent Charlie to prison!"

For just an instant, Don resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the Los Angeles Police Department losing his brother and ...what was that Amita said? Prison? No, that didn't happen. His lips spread out in a grim smile. This had to be a joke. He looked around the room and finally let his eyes settle on Gary Walker. "Wait, I get it. Charlie got all of you to do this just to get back at me. That's what this is."

Even as Millie and Amita shook their heads and began to protest, Gary Walker took a few steps towards Don and thrust a computer print out in front of him. His grim expression made Don's heart miss a few beats.

"Transport records show Charles Eppeson being loaded on the prison bus this morning headed for the Mt. Preston Correctional Facility."

"Yeah, so." Don tried to reason. "Eppeson, not Eppes. Just a typo, Gary."

"Except I just checked Eppeson's cell, Don, and he's there, playing checkers with his cell mate."

Gary rubbed his hand across the top of his head and he faced a confused Don with an uncomfortable look of guilt and regret. He dreaded telling this man what he was afraid was true."Somehow, someway, somebody got Charles Eppes mixed up with Eppeson and put _him_ on the bus instead."

Okay, this was no longer funny, Don thought. He had seen the inside of those prison buses before, had even made a few runs as a transport officer when he was in Fugitive Recovery. These were dangerous, convicted prisoners, handcuffed and shackled to the bus seats with leg restraints. The thought of Charlie being on the same bus, handcuffed himself, sitting next to one of these men made every big brother warning in Don's head go off like klaxons. If anything happened, Charlie would be virtually defenseless, not only against the other prisoners, but the guards themselves. These men were on high adrenaline alert, armed and ready to use whatever force was necessary to keep everyone under control.

"Gary, how the hell could something like this happen?"

"I don't know, Eppes, but I'm sure as hell going to find out."

That's all well and good, Don thought, but it doesn't help Charlie now.

"Can you call the bus back?" He could hear the desperation in his own voice.

Walker shook his head. "They left two hours ago. They're in the mountains. No signal. Won't be able to reach them for another couple of hours."

Don reached for another straw. "Okay, we need to call the prison and ..." Don stopped suddenly as a recent memory screamed in his head. "My God, Gary, did you say he was going to Mt. Preston?"

When Walker slowly nodded, Don felt the little control he was managing to cling to slip away.

Colby's voice trembled as he spoke what Don and Gary were thinking. "That's supermax security, man, for real hardcore prisoners."

This just keeps getting better and better, Don thought, rubbing his face. "We need to get in touch with the warden at Mt. Preston and..."

"Can't." Lt. Walker said grimly. "Tried already. There's a power outage, or something."

Don's stomach, which up to now had been churning and clenching in spasms worthy of the most intense ulcer, now dropped dramatically to his feet and he actually staggered backwards, as if he had been struck.

"There were some hard storms in the mountains last night, Eppes." Walker cautioned. " It could be as simple as that."

Don shook his head silently and Colby said, "A maximum security prison, with communications down is never simple, whatever the cause."

Don took a deep breath. Simple, he thought. Let's not jump to conclusions. Just keep it simple. All he had to do was go to the prison, explain the mix up, and take his brother home. He looked to Millie, who was standing beside Amita, holding the younger woman's hand. "Millie, Amita, take these students and go on back to CalSci. There's nothing you can do here. We'll let you know what's going on." When they nodded he turned to Walker. "Gary, keep trying to reach the bus or the warden. If you can get the bus to turn back, call my cell. If you get hold of someone at Mt. Preston, tell them what's happening and that Colby and I will be there in, what, five hours?"

Walker nodded, confirming Don's guess at the length of time needed to get there. "Don, you know they are not going to be able to just turn him over to you." Gary cautioned his friend once more. " There's going to be red tape and paperwork and ..."

Don stopped him with a cold, determined glare. "Charlie's not going to spend one night in that place." he growled.

He waited as Millie and Amita began to usher the students out of the room. He reached for Amita's hand as she passed, and squeezed it briefly, saying, without words, that everything would be alright. When they were gone he turned to Gary, worry and despair replacing his earlier determination. "Gary, if they think Charlie is this Charles Eppeson, what's going to happen? What's Eppeson convicted of?"

This, Walker thought, was going to be the hardest thing to tell Eppes. They all knew the hierarchy of prisons and they knew who was the lowest, most despised group in any facility. They also knew who received the worst treatment from other prisoners and guards as well. He knew this would hit Don harder than any of the other things that had happened this morning, because he would know without a doubt the danger Charlie would be in.

Gary Walker looked Don Eppes in the eye and said, "Charles Eppeson confessed to raping and murdering a 10 year old girl and dumping her body in a landfill."

Don was silent and Gary watched with concern as all the color left his face. Colby Granger hissed, "Shit" and reached out to his boss, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Don remained silent.

His eyes were wide with fear and regret and he swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. This couldn't be happening. But, he knew it was. And he knew it was his fault. And he knew he had to find his brother, before it was too late. He turned abruptly and walked out the door, his hands clenched into fists at his side, Colby one step behind.

tbc

A/N; more angst on the way


	3. Chapter 3

**For A Good Cause**

**Chapter three **

Don's hands, which just moments before had been clenched into tight fists, now grabbed the steering wheel of his SUV with white knuckled intensity.

Beside him, Colby Granger spoke with clipped, short sentences into his cell as he explained the situation to David. "See if you can contact some of the local authorities along the bus's route. Ask them to set up some road blocks. If they can stop the bus, let us know. Don and I are heading to Mt. Preston. If the bus makes it all the way to the prison, they should arrive around three. We won't make it before 5. We're hoping to get him out of there by tonight, for obvious reasons." Don didn't have to hear what David said about that, he knew David understood. So did Colby.

The vehicle fell silent when Colby returned his cell to it's clip at his waist.

He glanced at Don and noticed the older man's lips were pressed tightly together. From his white knuckled grip, to the vein pulsing in the middle of his forehead, to the way he sat in his seat, tense and ready to spring, Colby knew Don was on the edge.

"We'll get him, Don." he tried vainly to reassure the senior agent.

"Damn right we will." Don's voice was as tight as his grip. He skillfully maneuvered the large vehicle through the lunch hour traffic, heading for the freeway.

The image of Charlie, handcuffed and terrified, sitting on that bus, kept replaying in Don's mind. He wasn't sure how his brother would react to this situation. He could be acrimonious and irate, loudly demanding his rights, and generally pissing everyone off. Or, worse case scenario, he could shut down; retreat to the order and control of his numbers, and not be responsive to any external forces. Don worried how the guards would treat him if he failed to comply with an order he didn't hear or acknowledge.

Worry and guilt warred for dominance in Don's head as he drove. This was his fault. Just this morning he had smiled at the image of his brother's wrists bound by the harsh metal of handcuffs. Now he shuddered at the thought, barely repressing a moan. How could a simple joke turn into this nightmare? But the guilt Don was feeling was tempered with anger. Certainly he initiated the fake arrest, placing his brother in the situation of being mistaken for Charles Eppeson. And, at his request to make it look real, Walker had placed Charlie in an empty holding cell, instead of the comfortable lounge like room the other "fund raising arrestees" spent their time in while they waited to be bailed out. But, who the hell could look at Charlie Eppes and think he would be capable of hurting that little girl? And surely Charlie would have protested and tried to explain the mistake. Didn't anyone at the police station have the initiative to check out his story before shackling him on a bus full of violent criminals? By God, Don thought, if he doesn't get his brother back safe with all his curls in place, heads were going to roll. At the very least he was going to have the badge of the idiot that put Charlie on that bus.

He hadn't hesitated for even a minute about using the SUV's lights and sirens. Technically, it wasn't a federal case. Even though Charlie was a consultant for the bureau it was an LAPD transfer. Regulations stated that lights and sirens should only be used in an emergency, which was defined as a situation where there is a high probability of death or serious injury; both scenarios horrifying to Don. There was a fine line in assuming this was such a case. There was also Charlie's work for the NSA and other agencies to consider. Did that classify this as an emergency, federal or not? But honestly, Don didn't care how it was interpreted, or by whom, he had turned on the lights and sirens as soon as they exited the FBI parking garage. He would have preferred a helicopter, but just yesterday a memo had been issued that stated most of the area's helicopters were being used to control the large number of wildfires in the forests and mountains east of the city. The availability of one to transport him to Mt. Preston was doubtful.

He knew they were at least two hours behind the bus. He hoped he could make up some of that time and catch up to them. If David was lucky enough to get some road blocks set up, all the better. But they hadn't heard from David or Gary, so they had to assume the bus was still on it's way to Mt. Preston.

If the bus arrived at the prison two hours before they did, Don knew what would happen. The processing of the new inmates would begin as soon as they arrived. Fingerprints, mug shot, medical examine, personal and mental questionnaire, open shower, and the orange prison jumpsuit. A humiliating experience for a guilty, hardened criminal; horrifying for a mild mannered math professor who's only experience on the wrong side of the law was a few speeding tickets. Once he's processed and assigned a cell, he was in the system, and Don knew it would be harder to get him out. They had to make it before that.

They were a little more than one hour into the drive when Don's cell phone rang. He quickly removed it from it's case and handed it to Colby, who opened it and set it on speaker phone.

"Don." It was David.

"Yeah, David. What do you have for me?"

"Bad news and more bad news." David answered grimly. He didn't wait for Don to reply. "Lightning storms in the mountains last night took out two transformers. No one north of Tyler has power. Mt. Preston is still down as well as the entire towns of Rockville and Grafton. Any local cops between you and the prison are either dealing with power failures in their area or with a freeway accident about 20 miles north of your location. That's the other bad news. Eighteen wheeler lost traction on the wet pavement and slammed into the entrance of the Grafton Tunnel. Another tractor trailer, hauling some heavy construction equipment hit it and exploded, completely blocking the tunnel. A few vehicles were trapped inside, rescue operations are ongoing there, but there's no traffic in or out of the tunnel until they get the wreckage out of the way. Could be a day or two."

"When did that happen?"

"About two hours ago. I talked to Marie Severns, Don. Her husband, Roy, is the prison bus driver. She said he called her just before going through the tunnel. It's the cut off area where they usually lose cell phone reception. He always calls her before that happens. So we know the bus made it through."

"Damn. Any luck on road blocks?" Don asked, although he already knew the answer.

"No. Like I said, they are busy dealing with the accident and the power failures. Rockville PD offered a few men to block the route until they found out it didn't involve a prison escape or dangerous situation. I couldn't convince them it was a high priority. Sorry, Don."

As Don cursed their stupidity, Colby asked, "Any chance of us making it through the tunnel? Emergency vehicles have a path?"

"No. No one. They are afraid of structural damage. You'll have to double back and take Rt. 61 around."

Don didn't answer, but with a strangled sound of frustration, he slowed the SUV down and pulled off onto the shoulder. David hung up with a promise to call if he had any other news and Colby quickly reprogrammed the GPS on the dashboard.

"Dammit." Don swore, looking at the map. "61 is going to take us 2 hours out of our way." He rubbed his hand across his face. "I can't believe any of this is happening, Colby. I can't believe they put Charlie on that bus. We're not going to make it in time before he's processed and put in a cell." With eyes that reflected the agony he was feeling, he looked imploringly to his friend, as if he were searching for an answer. But there wasn't one. He groaned ."I can't believe this is all my fault."

"Hey, Don. This isn't your fault. I bet Charlie couldn't even calculate the probabilities of something like this happening. It just did. But, we're going to fix it now. Yeah, we'll get to the prison late and Charlie will already be in a cell, but when we tell the warden what happened, it'll be alright. He's not going to want the bad publicity of an innocent man spending any time in his prison. Innocent _and_ a consultant for the FBI. We'll use that if we have to. We'll do whatever we have to do, Don. We'll get him out. It'll be okay, man."

Don was momentarily ashamed by Granger's ability to remain logical while he had apparently lost all sense of reasoning. That wasn't going to help Charlie at all. Colby was right. They'll do whatever they to do. Fortified with that knowledge, Don pulled the SUV onto the highway again and executed a U turn, heading for the detour.

Route 61 north did indeed take them two hours out of their way. It was a rural route, rarely traveled and ladened with dangerous twists and turns. Don pushed the SUV as hard as he could. Even so, it was 6:38 pm when they arrived at the barricade in front of Mt. Preston. Charlie had probably been there for over 3 hours now.

At the gatehouse a guard asked for identification and Don and Colby showed them their FBI badges. He gave them both an indifferent glance, then motioned for another guard to open the gate and let them pass. Don drove through slowly, both he and Colby noticing the man had opened the gate manually. Power must still be out.

Inside, they were subjected to a thorough search by two correction officers, since the metal detectors were not operating. They were told they could keep their weapons as long as they remained in the administration building they were in now.

They were escorted by yet another guard to the warden's office just inside the main building. Back up generators provided minimum lighting inside the building, and the warden's office was full of shadows, effectively projecting a feeling of gloom and despondency.

Chief Deputy Warden Neil Glover turned to look at them as they entered the room. He was a tall man, nearly 6' 3", but he could never be called big. He was reed thin, with receding hair that might have been light brown at one time, but was leaning more towards gray now. Not that he was old. He was maybe ten years or so older than Don, but the goatee on his face had come in completely gray, and it aged him. His height required him to look down at the two agents, but Don got the feeling it was more insolence than height that gave him the oppressive presence he exuded. His eyes were blue, not a cool refreshing blue, or even a deep piercing blue, but blue the color of cold steel, and Colby shuddered in spite of himself.

"Gentlemen," he said, and he motioned towards a set of hard backed chairs wooden placed in front of his desk. Obviously, comfort was not big on his list for any guests to the prison. Don didn't want to sit down, anyway. He wanted to find Charlie and get out of there, but, again Granger's calm resolve prevailed and they sat down.

"My guards tell me you are FBI agents." Warden Glover remarked, straight to the point.

"Yes, sir. Special Agents Don Eppes and Colby Granger." Don said, reaching across the desk, offering his hand.

Glover took it, but released it immediately. "May I see your identification and badges?" His voice was cool and detached as though he was completely bored with the proceedings. He studied both IDs and both agent's faces, then returned them, his eyes now on the desk in front of him, shuffling a stack of paperwork.

"As I am sure you are aware of, agents, we are experiencing a power outage that affects every system in this prison. It requires my complete attention. Tell me what I can do for you, so that we can expedite your departure and I can return to my job"

My God, Don thought, the man has already dismissed us, without even knowing what we want. Fine with me, he thought. Just give me Charlie and we are so out of here.

"You received a bus transfer of new prisoners a few hours ago from Los Angeles."

Warden Glover nodded, still more interested in the top of his desk than Don.

"There was a mix up this morning, and the wrong man was put on the bus. We're here to take him back."

Glover finally raised his head to look at Don. He waited a full 5 second count before he replied. "A mistake? By the LAPD? I find that hard to believe."

"Yes, sir, I understand. And we are not placing the blame on anyone. It just happened and we would like to rectify it."

"Do you have any papers confirming the alleged mistake?"

Don bristled at the implication that he was lying, but he held his temper. "No, sir. But LAPD is aware of it. Lt. Gary Walker informed us of it at 12 noon today and we have been en route since then. We would like to straighten this out as soon as possible. As you said, you have duties to attend to and we have a long ride back to LA tonight."

"And what..." the warden let three seconds pass again before he continued. "... is this prisoner's name?"

"His name is Charles Eppes, but he is not a prisoner. It was all just a mistake."

Warden Glover fixed his steely blue eyes on Don, and with one eyebrow raised, he repeated, "Eppes?"

Don had been expecting that. "Yes, sir." he answered, his voice steady and direct. "My brother."

The warden digested this interesting piece of information. He took a moment to rearrange some papers on his desk that obviously didn't need rearranging. "And just how did this alleged mix up happen?"

Don bit back another retort and answered. "Charles Eppeson was suppose to be transferred here today, sir, not Charles Eppes. My brother is a professor of mathematics at CalSci university in Los Angeles, not a prisoner."

Warden Glover looked at the top of his desk again, and Don bit his lip, irritated at the man's condescending attitude. "A math professor." he repeated. Then he raised his head. "And what would a math professor be doing at the police station if he wasn't in custody? How was he mistaken for Charles Eppeson?"

"As I said earlier, it was a mistake. One we are trying to correct."

Warden Glover separated the papers in front of him. "I have here before me, the correct paperwork, transferring one Charles Eppeson into my custody as inmate of Mt. Preston Correctional Facility. If you have no other paperwork to contradict it, then I'm afraid I can't help you."

As Don opened his mouth in protest, Glover continued; " Surly, Agent Eppes, you understand the role of correct paperwork, and how vital it is to any successful operation."

"Yes, sir, I do." Don answered, his tone becoming harsh. "I also know sometimes you have to listen to your gut, not the paperwork. I need you to do that now, Warden Glover. Charlie doesn't belong here. Let us take him home and we'll straighten this all out tomorrow."

There was that annoying five second wait again before Glover said; "You want me..." and he paused again, provoking Don to rub his face, irritably. "...to believe, Agent Eppes, that the LAPD, an institution of outstanding reputation, made the monumental mistake of handcuffing and transporting a math professor who was not even in custody, instead of Charles Eppeson, who..." the warden glanced at the sheet of paper that he had been arraigning and rearranging. He raised one eyebrow again and looked directly at Don, speaking with undisguised disgust. "Charles Eppeson, who was convicted of defiling and murdering an innocent child."

Don blanched slightly at Glover's choice of words. "I know how this sounds, and believe me, there will be an investigation into how this could have happened. Right now, though, the priority is getting Charlie out of here."

"My only priority, Agent Eppes..." pause, ..." is maintaining order and control over the 2500 convicted degenerates and criminals who are currently housed in this facility."

Don nearly bit his lip waiting as the warden studied his desk top once more with a supercilious air, as though his next words were worth waiting for. "All of the new prisoners have been duly processed and assigned a permanent cell. Eppeson has been placed in our Cell Block C, our PC unit, for protective custody." Glover made sure he made eye contact with Don as he spoke again. "That is where we house sex offenders and deviants, for their own protection. General population tends to be rather dangerous for their kind. He's in the system now. Nothing short of a court order can change that. And with all communications down, that is not likely to happen for a day or two."

Colby heard the strangled sound Don tried to suppress and stepped in. "Professor Eppes is a highly respected, well known and prominent figure, both here in the states, and overseas. The press will have a field day with the fact that he was held here against his will, obviously in danger."

Glover raised an eyebrow "Is that a threat, Agent Granger?"

"No, sir, that is not a threat. It's a suggestion that this be resolved without further embarrassment or injury to anyone."

"What would I have to be embarrassed about? All we did was our job; we processed a convicted murderer and locked him up, as the state of California ordered. He is behind bars, where he belongs.

Don tried again. "That's just it. Charlie doesn't belong behind bars. He's innocent."

"Innocent?" Glover repeated, mockingly. "How original. An innocent man, wrongly convicted and imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. You could write a best seller. Or maybe a screenplay for a successful TV series, or better yet, the next summer blockbuster. I am constantly amazed at the amount of people here who claim to be innocent. The fact is, agents, that the LAPD had Charles Eppeson or Charles Eppes in custody for some reason, and he received a fair trial, was convicted, and sent here as his due."

Colby could see Don was close to reaching across the desk and grabbing Warden Glover by the throat. He tried to intervene, again. "Technically, Professor Eppes_ was_ in custody at the time, but it's not what you think. It was a joke."

Warden Glover stood up abruptly. Leaning over slightly, he splayed his fingers and tented his hands on the desk in front of him and said in an angry voice; "No, Agent Granger, _this_ is a joke. I am a _very_ busy man, and I have a _very_ important job to do, and I take that job_ very_ seriously."

Don and Colby both shot of their chairs and faced Glover across his desk. "I'm glad to hear that, Warden, because this is a _very _serious matter." Colby continued. "Professor Eppes is more than a math professor. He is a consultant for numerous government agencies, including the FBI, the NSA, DOD, CDC and others. He has top government security clearance and is privy to things that would curl your toes. I'm sure Robert Thompkins – you _do _know who Robert Thompkins is, don't you? - I'm sure he would be thrilled to know Charlie is spending the night in your lovely establishment, surrounded by some of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Listen up, you moron, we need to get him out of here tonight."

Warden Glover straightened up, rising to his full height, and looked down at the two angry agents.

"No one comes in or goes out of this place without the correct paperwork and authorization. Charles Eppeson was checked in this afternoon, and he will stay here until I am notified otherwise."

Don tried once more to reason with the man. Sort of. "You thick-headed, pompous, son of a bitch. My brother doesn't handle situations like this very well. If anything happens to him while he is here, I will hold you personally responsible."

Glover came around the front of his desk, walking past Don and Colby, to the door. He opened it. "When power is restored, I will be checking both your credentials and this ridiculous story. Until then, I have important matters to see to. Good bye, agents."

Don forced himself to take a deep breath and control the trembling rage inside him. He approached Glover, hating what he was about to to.

He stood before the arrogant man, his natural propensity for being in charge quelled by the desperate need to help his brother, and asked, "Can I, at least, see him tonight? Let him know we're here?" He cringed at the pleading sound of his voice.

Warden Glover actually smiled, a contemptuous sneer, as he recited the prison textbook from memory. "No new inmate can receive visitors during the first two weeks of his incarceration. No exceptions."

Don held his gaze for nearly a minute, neither man flinching or surrendering.

"Alright." Don growled. "If that is the way you want to play it. But let me make something very clear to you. If anything at all happens to my brother while he is your custody, it's not the FBI or even Robert Thompkins from the NSA that you have to worry about. I'm the one you need to be afraid of. And if there is anything left of your ass when I'm done, it will be hauled in for wrongful imprisonment and conspiracy; hell, we'll even throw in kidnapping. And believe, me, I can make it happen. Do I make myself clear, or do you want it in writing?"

Glover stood still, his confidence wavering in light of Don's remarks, as the agent stalked out of the room, Colby trailing behind.

Tbc

I'm sorry, but there is more angst on the way


	4. Chapter 4

**For A Good Cause**

**A/N; Thanks again for those who are still with me and those who are reviewing.**

**Chapter four**

Don stormed back to his SUV, enraged beyond reason, with Colby again trailing quietly behind. He slid in behind the steering wheel, grabbed it tightly with both hands, and let out a loud howl of agonized frustration. Colby wisely remained silent. The tension, anger and hopelessness that the meeting with Warden Glover had induced, actually made Colby want to scream as well, but that would be redundant and unsatisfying. What he really needed was to punch something. They sat quietly for a few minutes, both of them filled with an overwhelming despair at their failure to rescue their friend and brother.

Eventually, Colby turned to Don and said quietly, "So, what now?"

"I'm not leaving here without him." Don said stubbornly and Colby gave a quick nod of agreement, knowing that was a given.

As if they were brainstorming a difficult case, Don began to verbalize their options and possible scenarios. "It's only 7:30. We have no idea how long the power will be out, but I want to be close when it comes back on. The nearest motel is 50 miles away in Rockville, but with the power out, they may not even be open. That leaves Sacramento and that's just too far away for a few hours sleep, not that I could sleep anyway. If power is not restored by morning, maybe one of us should head back to LA and see about straightening this out from there. I don't think either of us should try to navigate 61 in the dark."

Colby nodded, a grim expression the only indication he knew who would be leaving and who would be staying close by.

Don continued. "Looks like our only option is to remain here at the prison until the power comes back, and since I don't see Glover offering bed and breakfast, I guess we spend the night here in the vehicle."

At the angry sound of contempt in Don's voice as he said the warden's name, Colby shook his head. "How can someone with that boneheaded mentality become warden? I've seen guys like him in the army; full of themselves and their own importance and power, who couldn't function without a guide book in front of them. Everything by the book. No variation from the rules. Well, screw it, sometimes you have to throw the rules and the book out the window and make your own decisions. But, even that wouldn't work in Glover's case. Rules or not, you just can't fix stupid."

His rant over, the car settled into an oppressive silence again. "So, boss, we haven't done an all nighter for a long time. Could be kind of hard without a couple gallons of coffee, though."

Don allowed a small grim smile. Once the decision had been made to stay here all night, he had settled into a morose state, ladened with guilt and fear, and he really didn't feel like talking. "They say caffeine is highly overrated, Granger." he murmured, staring out the front window towards the prison.

Colby snorted. "Don't tell Reeves that. She might have to shoot you."

Don didn't respond. He sat still, his eyes focused on the outside walls of the prison, as if he concentrated hard enough, he could visually penetrate them and see where Charlie was. Colby watched him for a moment. He knew Don Eppes and what he was doing. He settled back in the seat and gave up trying to talk to him.

The guilt Don was feeling grew louder and more persistent as the vehicle settled into silence. Eventually Colby fell asleep, snoring softly, and Don was glad to see at least one of them was thinking clearly. If Colby had to return to LA at dawn, he would need to be rested.

Thoughts of Charlie and what he was going through kept Don alert. Of all the people he knew, his brother was the least likely person to survive an extended stay in prison. He was too gentle, too naïve and trusting. Would all that change? Even when they resolved this mix up – and it_ would_ be resolved – would what might be happening to him tonight - in that place - with those men - affect him in ways they couldn't reach?

Guilt, ever present, now settled around him like a shroud and instead of resisting it, he welcomed it, drawing it around him. It would keep him awake. It would keep him focused. He relaxed into the seat and settled in, his eyes glued to the impenetrable walls in front of him.

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Don saw him coming across the parking lot and after a quick glance at his watch, noting that it was 4:30 am, he nudged Colby awake. "We have company." He rolled the window down beside him and nodded slightly to the guard as he approached.

"Agent Eppes, I'm Captain Floyd Lewis. Warden Glover would like to see you."

Don and Colby followed him into the brightly lit hallway and directly to the warden's office. They exchanged meaningful glances. The power was back on. Don had noticed it's return nearly half an hour ago, but fearing he wouldn't be able to contact anyone in LA at that time of morning, had decided to wait.

Warden Glover was standing behind his desk, holding a phone receiver in his hand. As they entered his office, he spoke. "He's here now, Agent Sinclair." He handed the phone to Don, who noticed the warden's face was paler than it had been earlier. He seemed more subdued, less arrogant.

"David, what's going on?" he said into the receiver.

"Don. How's Charlie? Is he okay?"

Don locked dark, angry eyes with Warden Glover and answered. "I don't know. I haven't been able to see him yet."

As he spoke, Glover turned away, and motioned for Floyd. He said something in a low tone to the guard, who nodded and hurried away.

"Well, I have some good news." David went on. "Merrick called in some favors. He pulled some extra workers in to fix the power. Lt. Walker is on his way to Mt. Preston with Eppeson, and all the paperwork you need to make the exchange. Guess Merrick even dragged Judge Oliver back from vacation to sign the court order."

"How did Merrick get involved?" Don asked.

"Walker called him. Guess Gary's worked with Warden Glover before and figured you'd have some problems. He knew Merrick had the clout to make things happen fast. Merrick took it a step further and called Warden Glover himself. Don't know what he said, but he told me you won't have any more trouble with Glover."

Don thanked David and hung up. He looked at Colby, hope showing in his eyes.

"That was David. Walker is on his way here with Eppeson and a court order signed by Judge Oliver. We can get Charlie out of here, and Eppeson behind bars," he turned away from the agent and locked eyes again with Glover, "with the proper paperwork, signed, sealed and delivered."

Glover returned Don's look, abashed and suddenly eager to please. "I've sent Lewis to cell block C to bring your brother here. He can wait here in my office until your people arrive with Eppeson."

Don wanted to berate the man for his earlier actions. But after sitting in the car all night, he had had a chance to think about it and he grudgingly admitted to himself he should have brought some kind of proof or paperwork with him to substantiate their story. That was the primary reason agents weren't allowed to work on cases involving family members. They needed to think clearly and rationally, instead of emotionally. And the shock of finding out Charlie had been sent to prison because of his ill-fated joke, had driven all reasonable thought out of him. But, Don also knew, there were things Glover could have done, even without power, to check out what they were telling him. All of the prisoners being transferred had their information forwarded to Mt. Preston, but it was transferred electronically into the prison's data base. With no computer, they couldn't check Eppeson's fingerprints against Charlie's. However, with the FBI and NSA connection they gave him, Glover should have given them the benefit of the doubt. At the very least he could have taken Charlie out of Cell Block C overnight until he could investigate further.

Whatever Merrick said to him must have worked, because Glover seemed more than willing to help in any way he could.

A moment later, Floyd Lewis returned, alone and red faced. He motioned for the warden to join him at the doorway, and after a fast, hushed conference, he hurried away once more. Don had a bad feeling. When Warden Glover turned back to face him and Colby, he knew something was wrong. Glover's face, always on the pasty side, had turned even paler, and he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"It would seem there is a problem." he finally stuttered. " Your brother isn't in the cell he was assigned to."

For just an instant, Don's weary mind didn't register what Glover said and he didn't react. Then it hit him full force and he panicked. "What do you mean he's not in the cell? Where the hell is he? Where else could he be at 4:30 in the morning?"

The warden recovered, looking at Don with a steady calm resolve. "I've sent Lewis to gather the rest of the guards and prison employees. We'll find out what happened and where he might have been placed. But, in the meantime, Agent Eppes, there is another place we can look." He motioned for Don and Colby to follow him.

They left the administration building and turned towards a larger building that sat to the left of the entrance. Don was shocked when they walked through the guarded doorway into a large gymnasium. It was filled with prisoners. There were a few cots set up near a wall on the far end, but it was obvious most of them slept on the floor. Mats, pads, some sleeping bags, sometimes just a pile of blankets, covered most of open area. The inmates were all still sleeping of course, but at a nod from Glover the guards began rousing them. As they were told to line up along one of the long walls, Glover explained. "Mt. Preston, like every other prison in America is over crowded. We keep the prisoners who are only here for a short time, maybe someone who has been sentenced for 30 days for parole violation, here in the gym instead of taking up space in a cell we need for the ones with a longer sentence. And, for a short time after we receive newbies, we keep some of them here, to observe and determine where best to place them. Someone like Eppeson, uh, your brother, would have normally been put into Protective Custody right away, but overworked and underpaid prison employees have been known to make mistakes. It's possible someone missed what he was convicted of, and put him into general population."

Don was listening, but his attention was mainly on the prisoners as they were lined up. They were all dressed the same; white t shirts and white underwear; all of them standing side by side. Don checked each one, looking for the telltale head of curls that he knew would be unruly after sleep. When he reached the end of the line, he retraced his steps, checking again, and when the second look produced nothing again, he glanced hopefully to Colby. Granger shook his head. Charlie wasn't there.

They returned to the administration building and proceeded to the conference room, where Lewis had gathered all available guards. "I've called the day shift in early, sir," he reported to Glover, who nodded approvingly. "They should all be here in 30 minutes or so."

Lewis also had blueprints of the prison laid out on a long table and Don was immediately drawn to them.

"Mt. Preston has eight different areas where inmates are housed." Warden Glove began. " All totaled, there are about 2500 locked up at any given time. Today, there are 875 inmates in Cell Block A." Glover pointed to one of the larger buildings on the blueprint page. "That is where the most violent are kept. Mostly gang related. Gang violence within prison walls is not that much different that on the outside. It is our main problem. Any prisoner with gang connections is housed in A."

"Cell Block B," he continued, " is for General Population, for those who follow the rules, are not connected to any gang, and who don't pose a threat to themselves or anyone else. We currently have 735 there."

Glover pointed to a building away from the others, sitting far enough from the nearest building, that it wasn't part of any discernible pattern. "This is Cell Block C, for VP's. It's where your brother should have been placed."

"VP's?" Don asked.

Glover was slightly uncomfortable as he answered, "Vulnerable Prisoners. Someone who may in danger from the other inmates. There are 304 there today."

Don swallowed hard, _make that 303_, he thought, then returned his gaze to the papers in front of him. Glover continued.

"Level One Housing, here, is similar to trustees at a county jail. Not likely to escape, no threat, minimum security. There's no more than 250 there. We also have a segregated area. It's like a county jail within the prison itself. If a law is broken within the prison walls, the suspects are detained there throughout the investigation. Today there are 138 inmates waiting a verdict."

Glover turned away from the paper and addressed Don directly. "The gymnasium you've already checked. And we have the Psychiatric ward and the infirmary. Together those two have nearly 200 inmates residing there."

Don turned away, back to the blueprints, begrudgingly giving Glover his due. The man certainly knew what he was talking about, and it was obvious he did take his job very seriously.

Don saw a building on the blueprints that Glover had not mentioned. He pointed to it and asked, "What's this one?"

The warden answered right away. "That's the educational building. It has the prison library, and classrooms for adult education."

Don's eyes lit up and he saw Colby straighten up at the information. Glover saw their reactions and shook his head. "I know, your brother being a professor and all, it's sounds like the ideal place, but we had a massive fire there two months ago, and with state funding at an all time low, the money to repair and rebuild it has not been allocated. It's off limits to everyone, including guards and any prison employees. It's extremely unsafe and the doors are padlocked and chained. No one is permitted there."

His hopes dashed once again, Don walked away, rubbing his hands across his face in frustration. Then he squared his shoulders and addressed Warden Glover. "We need to split up into teams and check all these buildings. The problem is, only Colby and I know what Charlie looks like."

Floyd Lewis stepped forward. "I took the liberty of making copies of Eppeson's, uh, Eppes' mug shot that was taken during processing." He handed one each to Glover, Don and Colby, then proceeded to pass one to each of the guards standing in the room. Don looked at the picture. Mug shots were notoriously known to be unflattering, certainly not catching the subject at their best moments, but Charlie's pale face with large dark eyes nearly tore Don's heart in two. His brother's eyes were filled with bewilderment and confusion. He looked every bit the part of "vulnerable" as the warden had put it. Don shook his head, biting his lower lip, and wondered again how all of this could have started with a stupid practical joke.

Before they began their search Glover had Lewis provide each team with a complete printout of inmates names and what cell they were assigned to. Then Warden Glover took three guards with him to Cell Block A, Don accompanied three more guards to check Cell Block B and Colby and three additional guards rechecked all of Cell Block C.

By the time Don and Glover returned with their teams four hours later, Colby had finished checking the 300 inmates in Cell Block C and had taken his team to the medical building and checked the two wards there. In the meantime, Floyd Lewis had checked the Segregation Area. That only left the Level One House area.

They regrouped in the conference room where coffee and donuts had been provided. Don took a cup of coffee, needing the caffeine, but refused anything to eat. As they compared their search results, a disturbing pattern was developing. Don had found 6 cells in the block he checked that had different prisoners than what the paperwork said. Warden Glover had also found 4 discrepancies in Cell Block A, and Colby had found a total of 10 in the three places he had checked.

Glover was puzzled and more than a little worried, but Don and Colby were downright terrified. It was becoming obvious that the paperwork had been falsified. Twenty prisoners, who had been assigned a bed and suitable housing, were missing. And Charlie was one of them!

"What the hell is going on here?" Don demanded.

Before Warden Glover could answer, Lewis ran into the room, his face red again, "Warden. There's been an incident in the laundry room."

"What?" Both Glover and Don asked at the same time.

"One of the new prisoners," Lewis said, his eyes darting nervously to Don and Colby, "was found beaten and shoved into one of the dryers."

"Has he been identified?" Glover asked before Don could, because Don suddenly found he couldn't breath, let alone talk.

Lewis shook his head. "Not yet. His face was beaten so badly, we can't tell for sure, but he fits the general description of the Eppes you're looking for."

tbc

A/N; Sorry. But check later today. I'll try to send you chapter five. And hey, we're close to the end. Something good has to happen soon. Right?


	5. Chapter 5

**For A Good Cause**

Chapter five

Having just checked the medical area, Colby knew the way there, and he took off at a run, Don close behind him. Glover had trouble keeping up with them.

They burst, unannounced, into the exam room and the doctor raised his head and protested. By the time he got half his sentence out, Don and Colby were at the exam table, looking at the patient lying there.

They didn't have to do more than glance at the injured inmate to know it wasn't Charlie. The poor man's face was covered with dried blood and both eyes and lips were swollen in grotesque shapes. It would have been hard to identify him as someone they knew. He had a slight build like Charlie and had a head full of curly dark hair, but his chest, exposed to treat a multitude of lacerations and bruises was smooth and void of any chest hair. Don's knees nearly buckled with relief and he held onto the exam table. He and Colby exchanged relieved looks.

All they could do was return to the conference room and their observations, still frustrated.

It was now 9 am and the day shift of guards and prison employees, called in early, had all been there for hours. They still had the Level One Housing area to check, but since it was a minimum security area, Glover suggested they wait to check it out. There were no violent criminals there that would pose any threat to Charlie if he had been placed there by mistake. The warden wanted to get to the bottom of the falsified records.

"I don't give a damn about your screw ups." Don protested. "I just want to find my brother." He started for the door, Colby beside him. "Granger and I will check it out."

One of the guards accompanied them as they searched the area, where most of the prisoners were roaming freely around an enclosed yard. Don and Colby walked among them, showing Charlie's picture, hoping someone would recognize him. If they did, no one was saying.

The guard let Don and Colby check the individual cells that were inside the building. They were all empty, the prisoners either exercising outside or at their day jobs at the prison. They found no trace of Charlie.

Don hated to admit it, but, short of calling in the National Guard and tearing Mt. Preston apart, cell by cell, he didn't know what to do. He wondered if he should notify the NSA and let them know Charlie was missing. How could he tell Robert Thompkins that all of this was his fault? That it was the result of a practical joke gone horribly wrong. He covered his mouth with his hand, slowly drawing it downward, off his chin and shook his head. He just didn't know what to do next.

Colby mirrored Don's uncertainty. "We could recheck all the cell blocks." he offered. "Or, maybe we should check all the offices and service areas. And there is still the educational building."

Don shook his head. "Padlocked." he said wearily. "No one can get inside."

The guard, still standing beside them, straightened up and looked at Don, puzzled.

"No, it's not. I saw Fletcher and Bales going in there last night. Had a couple of boxes with them.

Figured they were using the place for storage or something."

Both Don and Colby looked at the young man, their minds racing, then turned to each other; both coming to the same conclusion. They raced back to the administration building, nearly running into Warden Glover, who was just coming out of the door.

Glover opened his mouth to speak, but Don cut him off. "The Educational Building. Do you have a key for the padlock?"

Confused, Glover looked at Don then Colby. "Yes...no...I mean Tom Fletcher has it. He's my associate warden. I'm afraid he may be involved in the inaccurate reports. He didn't show up for work today. Neither did Ryan Bales. Both of them checked in the new prisoners yesterday, including your brother."

Don and Colby were both nodding their heads as the warden talked, having already reached that conclusion. "One of your guards just told us he saw Fletcher and Bales going into the educational building last night. We need to check it out. Do you have the key?"

Glover shook his head. "There is only one set. Tom has it. I trusted him."

Pulling their service weapons, Don and Colby started running towards the scorched building, Glover following close behind. At the padlocked entrance, Don aimed his gun at the lock. Colby stepped back, out of the way of sparks and held Glover back at a safe distance. It took two shots to break the lock, then Don and Colby were wrestling the chain away from the door. They entered the building cautiously.

Even after two months, the smell of smoke was overpowering. Sunlight filtered in from outside through haphazardly shuttered windows. Debris was scattered across the floor and they had to step carefully around it. They started towards what use to be the central hallway. Moving slowly, Don approached the first room. His arm extended in front of him, weapon ready, he scanned it. Nothing. They moved on. Colby scanned the second room with the same results. They were heading for the third room when an ominous rumble made them stop. Before they could react, a large partially burned beam thundered to the floor in front of them, sending a cloud of dirt and ashes into the air. They backed up, choking and gasping, trying to cover their faces with their arms. As the air cleared, Don wiped the soot from his eyes with his shirt sleeve, and pressed on again. The beam blocked the hallway, but Don and Colby pushed one end aside, leaving them a small passage through to the hallway again.

The main hallway they were in suddenly branched out into two different areas. Don looked back at the warden. He pointed to the hallway to the left. "Where does that go?"

"Individual classrooms. There's four...no, five down that hallway."

"And that way?"

Glover looked to the right. "Some offices, uh, the restrooms, and the library."

Don looked at Colby, who nodded and said, "Yeah, the classrooms are probably too small. If I was trying to hide 20 men, I'd go for the library."

Don agreed and they started down the blackened hallway. Once again the debris made navigation difficult and twice there was a threatening rumble, as if something was ready to collapse. Don found himself praying they would find Charlie and the other prisoners here, but, at the same time, he shuddered at the thought that they may have spent the night in such a dangerous place. They passed a lounge area next to the restrooms, then turned to the right again into a large alcove that announced the entrance to the library.

Don stepped slowly into the open doorway and saw . . . Charlie. He was standing in front of the long wall separating the library from the hallway. His hair was in a wild state and his skin, always pale, appeared ashen against the orange jumpsuit he was wearing. Don noticed his face was drawn and taut with stress lines, and he looked utterly exhausted. But, he was standing, unharmed and wonderfully intact, in front of a . . . chalkboard! For just an instant, Don pulled his eyes away from his brother, to notice there were nearly 20 inmates sitting on the scorched floor, facing Charlie and the blackboard behind him. It was then Don noticed Charlie was in full teaching mode, gesturing at the board, with a hand that held a large piece of white chalk. There was a series of elaborate lines and equations on the board and astonishingly, Don saw the words; Pursuit Curves, Prisoner's Dilemma, Game Theory and Soap Bubble Theory with Steiner tree. Charlie, unaware of his newest audience, continued speaking. He was tired and his voice confirmed that with a raspy, hoarse sound, that said he had been talking for hours.

"So, we can assume the authorities will be using a form of pursuit curve at that point to track your location. Picture a dog and a cat and a mouse."

Don, overcome with relief at the sight of his brother, spoke his name in a trembling voice, shaky with emotion. "Charlie."

Charlie's head jerked up at the sound of Don's voice and he stumbled back towards the board a few steps before he could right himself. His expression mirrored Don's overwhelming relief and their eyes locked in mutual understanding.

Don and Colby stepped into the room as Charlie dropped the chalk onto the floor and started toward the doorway. He only made it a few steps when a large, muscled inmate rose to his feet and blocked his way. "Hey, your not done here, geek."

Don and Colby moved swiftly to intercept the man, but he grabbed the tired professor's arm and turned him around quickly. Charlie stumbled and fell to his knees, the inmate still pulling on his arm. Don reached for Charlie's other arm, firmly pulling him away from the prisoner, who was now being held in place by Colby Granger's hand against his chest. "Back off, man." Colby growled. "School's out. The professors coming with us." He stood, eye to eye with the man, until the inmate, sensing he was outnumbered in more ways than one, finally released Charlie's arm, and walked away.

"Get me the hell out of here." Charlie muttered in a hoarse whisper, anger and fear replacing the earlier sense of relief at seeing Don and Colby. With one hand on his brother's upper arm and one on the back of his opposite shoulder, Don ushered Charlie out of the library in a classic protective hold. Colby Granger followed behind them, watching for further threats.

With the exception of a quickly asked, "Are you alright?" by Don as they left the library and a silent nod from Charlie, they traveled the distance to the warden's office quietly.

Once there, Glover pulled his chair out from behind his desk and offered it to Charlie who fell into it gracelessly, exhaustion evident in every move he made.

"Charlie, have you been there in the library all this time?" Don asked, his voice a mix of concern and anger.

Charlie nodded and croaked out, "Yes, they left us there yesterday and said they would come get us when there was a cell available." Then he asked. "Can I get a glass of water?"

Floyd hurried from the room to get some water and Glover reached into the door on the bottom of his desk. He produced a bottle of brandy and poured a small amount in a glass and handed it to Charlie.

"Who told you that?" he asked.

Charlie accepted the glass and emptied it in one gulp. He handed the glass back to Glover and glared at him with unconcealed contempt. "The one who was taking orders from you yesterday." he said.

Glover blanched. "Fletcher?" he asked.

Charlie nodded. Don spoke in a quiet voice, quiet because of the controlled anger still emanating from him. "I think what we're going to find, buddy, is a case of falsifying records. But, I don't know why, and why they would go to such lengths, just yet. Believe me, there's going to be an investigation."

Floyd returned with several bottles of water. Charlie gulped one down immediately and twisted the cap off another. "Whoa, hold on, Chuck, not so fast." Don cautioned. He frowned and looked at Colby and could tell his team member was thinking the same thing. "Have you had anything to eat?" he asked.

Charlie shook his head. "They brought some stuff in last night and a couple bottles of water. Not enough to go around, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask any of them to share."

Don allowed a grim smile, then touched Charlie's shoulder. "We'll get you something to eat, buddy."

Without being told, Floyd left the room again.

Colby looked to Warden Glover. "Can you send someone for the doctor? We'd better get someone to look at his injuries."

Don's head jerked up. "Injuries?" he asked, puzzled. Was Charlie hurt? He hadn't seen anything.

Then he noticed the small gash on the right side of his nose, which was actually a little swollen and red. The redness was almost hidden by the small patches of discoloration both beneath and above his right eye. Don couldn't believe he hadn't seen it. Colby reached slowly for Charlie's hands and brought them forward, showing the scraped, bloody skin along the outside of both of them and his forearms. Charlie hissed and drew them back to his lap.

"Charlie, what happened? Did someone hit you?" Charlie shook his head, but Don had already turned to Glover. Angrily he said; "I told you I would hold you personally responsible if he was hurt..."

"Don, nobody ..."

"I told you he didn't belong here..."

"Don ..."

"I'll have your job and ..."

"DON. Nobody hit me."

Don's anger faded quickly at his brother's words. "How did you get hurt?"

Charlie dropped his head, suddenly very interested in a hole in the leg of his jeans, and he answered in a low voice, "I fell."

"What? You fell?" Don repeated, puzzled.

Charlie brought his head up then, defiantly, and raised his voice. "Yes, I fell. Getting into the bus."

The myriad of emotions that Don had experienced over the last 24 hours imploded with such a force, he gasped. An instant later, they exploded out of him, in the form of a near hysterical laughter. Colby joined him, still standing beside Charlie, his hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you two find my misfortune so amusing." Charlie said petulantly.

"It's not that, Charlie." Colby was able to control his laugher long enough to explain Don's unexpected hysterics. "It's just that Don has been so worried about you, couldn't stop thinking of all the things that could happen to you, all the ways you could have been hurt or worse, it's just kind of crazy to find out the only injuries you sustained were from falling over your own feet."

Charlie looked at Don, who had stopped laughing and was wiping the moisture from his eyes.

Charlie spoke without thinking, muttering in his own defense. "It's not that easy to walk with those damn chains around your ankles, you know."

Don's head jerked up, and Charlie saw the agony in his eyes, as all the guilt and despair and remorse and anger and fear burst from him. "Oh God, Charlie." His voice broke with emotion and a few tears slid down his cheek. His hands were trembling as he touched his brother's arm. " I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I know I shouldn't have had them arrest you at school like that, but, in a million years, Charlie, I never thought anything like this could happen. I don't know how, but I'll make it up to you. I will. I'm so sorry, Buddy."

Charlie was shaking his head, back peddling furiously."No, Don. I know you didn't plan any of this."

He took a moment and considered what he wanted to say. " Granted, it's not the best practical joke I've ever seen, and there were times yesterday on that bus, if you had been around, those handcuffs would have been around your throat. But when last night came and you weren't here yet, I knew there had to be a damn good reason. And I knew you were worried wherever you were. Not that you didn't deserve to worry a little, well, a lot, but, in the end, it all worked out. The fund raiser is a good idea. Really. It's just the rest of it that sucked. I'm fine. It's over now. I'm okay, really."

Floyd Lewis returned with some of the coffee and donuts from the conference room, but before Charlie reach for one the prison doctor arrived. As he began to clean the abrasions Charlie asked, "The other prisoners in the library with me. Did they get out, too? You have to find another place for them. That whole damn place could fall down any minute."

Don turned to Warden Glover who nodded and answered. "Yes, they are out. They will all be in a safe place by nightfall. I guarantee it."

It didn't take the doctor long to take care of Charlie's injuries and less time for Charlie to eat two donuts and drink a cup of coffee.

They received word that Gary Walker had just arrived with Charles Eppeson. While Glover and Lewis went out to take care of the transfer, Don and Colby pulled the wooden chairs over and sat down next to Charlie.

"So, Charlie," Colby began, "I have to ask. Did you spend the entire night teaching convicted criminals the same pursuit curves and game theory things that you give us?"

Charlie nodded and reached for another donut.

"Yeah. When I told them who I was and that I consult for the FBI ..."

"You told them that? Oh, Charlie, you shouldn't have done that." Don said. "You could have really put yourself in danger, buddy."

Charlie looked at his brother in utter disbelief. "They thought I was a child molester, Don! A consultant for the FBI is tame compared to that."

"And you just told them you weren't Charles Eppeson and they believed you?" Colby questioned.

"The probability of convincing them of my innocence was greater than convincing anyone in authority. Most criminals think of themselves as innocent. It wasn't that much of a leap for them to think I was, too." Charlie drank some of the water then continued. "And the idea that the LAPD made such an unbelievable mistake, getting me mixed up with Eppeson, was funny to most of them. It really wasn't hard to convince them I was who I said I was, especially when I did some "math magic" for them."

Don smiled, but Colby asked, "Math magic?" Don answered while Charlie worked on his donut.

"It's what I use to call it when Charlie was little and could multiply five and six digit numbers in his head."

"Alright. So you convinced them you were Charlie Eppes, not Eppeson. Then what?"

"Then I convinced them I could help them by giving up some of the FBI's secrets. That got their interest and I figured if I talked long enough and gave them what they wanted, I could keep them occupied until you guys got here."

"And they just believed that you would willingly give up FBI secrets?" Colby asked.

"Well, they did when they saw how angry I was. I mean, by then, I had been arrested in front of my classroom, hauled in cuffs to the police station and put into a holding cell. Then I was shackled to Bubba on the prison bus - a terrifying experience by the way - then probed and prodded here in front of Warden Glover and his minions. Yeah, I was pretty upset by then."

Don nodded, drowning in guilt again. But Charlie continued. "So, they found some chalkboards in those classrooms and I started, well, I guess you could call it lecturing."

"But, later, how did you do that with no lights?" Don asked.

"Those guards, uh, Fletcher and Bales, they left a couple of flashlights. We didn't run them all the time, though. We weren't sure how long we would be there. So sometimes it was just me talking in the dark."

Don shook his head, amazed, but Colby couldn't help himself. "Oooooo, math in the dark. Scary."

Don frowned at him, but Charlie smiled. "I don't need light to talk about numbers, Colby."

"So, Whiz Kid, if any of these losers get out, are they going to be able to continue their life of crime and evade recapture because of what you taught them tonight?"

Charlie pushed the rest of his donut in his mouth and shook his head. "No. What information I did give them was coalesced into meaningless, obscured equations that exaggerated the limits of believability."

At Colby's confused look, he smiled patiently and added, "I made it up. I wasn't dealing with Rhodes scholars, you know."

Don laughed, amazed that he could laugh at the thought of his brother sitting in the dark with 20 convicted criminals. He wondered whether he really had control of his emotions yet. He closed his eyes and shuddered at what could have happened. What would have happened with anyone else but Charlie. All night, as he had sat in the SUV worrying about him and thinking about how defenseless and vulnerable he was, Charlie had proven him wrong. He had taken control and by using his amazing brain and some "math magic" had diffused the immediate danger.

Don's emotions once again fought for dominance. He was so utterly relieved to be sitting next to his brother again, touching his arm, seeing him give Colby that smile he always gives him when he has to drop down a notch so the agent can understand what he is saying. But he was also angry at those idiots, Fletcher and Bales, who had put him and the other prisoners in danger by leaving them in the library all night. He was extremely grateful to David and Merrick for working straight through the night to resolve the situation. He didn't know how he would ever thank them. But, above all, the emotion that threatened to push all the others away was repentance. His regret and sorrow over the pain, both physical and emotional, that he had put his brother through was so overwhelming, he felt suffocated by it; as though it could suck the very life out of him.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Colby, as he stood, shaking his head.

"The whole thing is so weird. Convicted criminals sitting in the dark listening to Charlie Eppes talk about pursuit curves and game theory. I can't believe that worked. I can't believe you did it."

Charlie shot Colby an incredulous look. "Hey, Granger, it kept their minds off what else they wanted to do with me."

Don paled and Colby stuttered, but before they could respond, Warden Glover and Gary Walker came into the room.

"Everything is taken care of." Glover announced, then he took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I did not listen to you gentlemen yesterday. We were lucky the situation was resolved without permanent damage to anyone."

Charlie glared, not quite convinced, but Glover spoke again. "I know all of you are tired. I would like to offer you accommodations, without bars, to rest before your long trip back."

Don couldn't leave this place fast enough, but he knew Charlie was exhausted. Maybe a short nap...

"I just want to go home, now." Charlie stood up, a little shaky, looking at Don. "Can we do that? I just want to go home and get out of these clothes and take a hot shower – alone."

Don smiled, and Colby coughed into his hand. They headed for the door, Don's arm around his brother's shoulder. "Yes, Charlie. We can do that. Let's go home."

The morning sun was hot and bright as they stepped out of the administration building and headed for Don's vehicle. Colby jogged ahead to open the door to the back seat for Charlie, knowing he would lay down and be asleep before too long.

"Well, Whiz Kid, in the scope of practical jokes gone wrong and charity for a good cause, I'd say this is one we're not likely to forget."

"Oh, you can be certain of that." Charlie said, tired and still hoarse, as he started to get into the vehicle. "Being stripped searched yesterday by two Neanderthal guards is not something I'll _**ever**_ forget."

tbc

A/N; If you're still with me, there's one more to go.


	6. Chapter 6

**For A Good Cause**

**Thank you again for all the reviews. A multi-chaptered story was fun, but very time consuming and exhausting. I think I'll stick to one shots.**

**Be sure to check out author's notes at the end. **

**Chapter six**

"I brought something for everybody." Alan Eppes announced as he reached for a large box on the floor beside the dining room table.

"You didn't have to do that, Dad." Don admonished, as he took the box from his father and set it on the table.

"Of course, I did. When a family member goes away, he brings back souvenirs for everyone. That's just the way it is."

Alan had returned from his trip to St. Louis late Saturday morning: just 23 hours after Don and Charlie had walked out of Mt. Preston. Charlie had slept most of the way home and after a good meal and a hot steamy shower had fallen into his bed and slept for another 12 hours. He woke up just in time to eat the lunch Don had made for them before they left for the airport to pick up Alan.

On the way, Don told Charlie that David had called while he was sleeping with information on Fletcher and Bales. "I know it's hard to believe," he started with a wry grin, " but Glover pissed someone off. Someone with political aspirations who wants someone else in charge at Mt. Preston. Someone he can control. He paid Fletcher and Bales to falsify the records, even forging Glover's name to some of them, then planned to appoint a committee to investigate corruption at the prison. Glover would be fined, at the very least, and lose his job as warden."

Charlie nodded, seeing how it all fit. "And when two federal agents showed up investigating a mixed up prison transfer, they got scared and took off."

"Yep. So, see, something good came out of all this." Don smiled in a way that said he knew nothing good, as far as his brother was concerned, had come from it.

"If I hadn't been put in the library with all of the other men, they might still be there." Charlie's shoulders shook as a small shudder passed through him. Don agreed silently, but wished with all his heart that things hadn't happened the way it did.

They discussed the possibility of not telling Alan what had happened while he was in St. Louis. It's not that Alan didn't appreciate a good old fashion practical joke; it's just that Don didn't think he would be able to explain to his father's satisfaction how he had let something like that happen to Charlie. In the end, they decided honesty was the best policy and they would eventually tell him. They didn't have to worry about it. When they met Alan at the baggage claim, he embraced Charlie first, holding on a little longer than usual, then after he gave Don a quick hug, he said, "Donnie, how could you let something like that happen to your brother?" At their shocked faces, he added. "I called the house yesterday and both your cell phones to make sure someone was going to be here today. When I couldn't reach either of you, I called Amita. Poor girl was so upset, she could hardly talk, but I managed to get the story from her."

Alan had called while they were on their way home from Mt. Preston and in the dead zone for cell phone reception. Merrick had already called Amita and Millie and told them that Charlie had been found safe and relatively sound. She was, at least, able to tell Alan that it was over and Charlie would be home soon.

"Donnie, you know how I feel about practical jokes." he admonished. " And just look what happened this time. I think you owe your brother for everything that he went through."

Don smiled and leaned into his father as Charlie put the luggage in the trunk. "It's already in progress,

Dad."

They were all gathered now, at the Craftsman, a day later, celebrating both Alan's and Charlie's safe return. As Don set the box of souvenirs on the table in front of Alan, Charlie suddenly looked at his brother and said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I received a phone call from Warden Glover this morning."

"What did that asshole want?"

"He wanted to know if I would consider giving a lecture twice a month for the inmates. Seems they liked my style of teaching."

"More likely your choice of topics." Colby added with a crooked grin.

Charlie laughed "Maybe that's it. I'll have to go through some case files and find another set of algorithms to lecture on."

Don's head jerked up, a stunned expression on his face. "Wait, you're not seriously considering it, are you?"

"I don't know." Charlie said. " Even though they were the quintessential captive audience, as it were, it was nice teaching someone who really listened. At least they listened more that you and your team does sometimes." Don opened his mouth but Charlie continued. "And I thought it might be a good idea if you joined me. You know, Pursuit Curves from an actual FBI agent's point of view. We could hold seminars on Game Theory with hands on applications."

Don relaxed, seeing the teasing glint in his brother's eyes and grinned. "Oh, I see how it's going to be. Alright. Give it your best shot, bro."

Charlie shook his head in a dismissive gesture, then he locked eyes with his older brother. "The best practical joke, Don," Charlie said quietly, with just the hint of a threat, "is the one that never comes. The one you're always waiting for, the one that could happen any minute; that's the one you're most afraid of."

Don looked admiringly at his brother. "Bring it on, Charlie. I can take it. And, I know I deserve it."

"Not to worry, bro. And I was just teasing about lecturing at the prison. I don't intend ever going back there."

"Well, I can certainly understand that, Charlie. But you might want to reconsider that. I think they may want you there for the dedication to the new library. Especially since it's being dedicated in your honor."

"What?"

"Well, between Millie, Gary and I, and the contacts we have between us, and that includes Merrick, some pressure has been put on the appropriations committee for the prison, and the Educational Building is going to be rebuilt this month, with more facilities for adult education and rehabilitation."

Charlie's smile was warm with affection. "Thanks, Don. That means a lot. Education is always a plus. It's the true source of power and freedom."

They all nodded, and Don spoke again. "It's not enough to make up for what happened, but it's a start."

Then Millie spoke up. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I want to know what Alan brought back." she said, rubbing her hands together.

"Well, I tried to find something that everyone would like." He said as he opened the flaps on the box. He reached in a pulled out a large, hardback book. "Ah, yes, Don, this is for you"

"A book? You brought me back a book?"

Alan glared at his oldest. "Yes, I brought you back a book. I went to the National Publishers Convention, Don, not a weapons and tactics demonstration. But, having said that, here." He handed Don the book, who look at the title and smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Yea, now that's what I'm talking about." He turned the book around so everyone could see the title. "The Illustrated History of Law Enforcement Weapons and Tactics."

"Illustrated, Don." Charlie teased. "That means it has pictures and everything."

Everyone laughed and Alan reached into the box again. "Larry, I thought maybe you might enjoy this one. It hasn't been released yet. We were able to get advanced copies, and it's even signed by the author.**" **

Larry and Megan, home early from their trip after a call from David the day before, were sitting beside each other at the table and he reached for the book Alan was holding. "Stars In Their Eyes." he read. "Ah, a look into the early cosmologists and their studies of the heavens. Well done, Alan, I shall truly enjoy this."

Alan looked into his box of goodies again and said, "Ah, now this, I got one for each of the lovely ladies in my life." he said with a sly grin. He pulled out four copies and handed one each to Millie, Megan, Amita and Liz. Colby leaned over Megan's shoulder and read the title out loud. "The Role of the Alpha Female in an Alpha Male World." The girls all chortled and laughed. Colby groaned. "Thanks, Alan."

"Not to fear, Agent Granger. I found a book for you and David that just might help you two. Here you are," he handed the books over to them. This time Megan stretched her neck to see the title. She laughed out loud when David turned his around. "Running With The Top Dog. Secrets To Working With the Leader of the Pack."

"Hey, watch it." Don smiled. "Top Dog, here. Don't you forget it."

Alan removed the last book from the box and looked at his youngest son. "Charlie, I already had this book for you before I found out what had happened. I admit, I wasn't sure I wanted to give it to you, but both Larry and Amita assure me that you will only see the positive side of his narrative and it won't fester any bad memories." He handed the hardcover book to Charlie, who accepted it with an apprehensive and curious expression. He looked at the front cover. His eyes sparkled with excitement and he smiled. "Dad, this is great!" he exclaimed. He reached over and gave Alan a quick hug. "And, no, this won't fester any bad memories. Totally different environment and situation. Although, some of the variables may be similar, but I'm sure I could find an equation that would compare the ..."

"Whoa, Chuck. Hold on. What is it?" Don asked.

"The biography of Jakow Trachtenberg, using some of his own journal entries." Charlie was too excited to notice his brother exchanging glances with his team members, all of them obviously unfamiliar with the name.

"Charles. Perhaps you may want to..." Larry prodded.

"Oh, yeah. Jakow Trachtenberg. He was a Jewish mathematician who was imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. While he was there he developed what we call the Trachtenberg system. Its a method of mental arithmetic and short cuts to calculate quickly. He wrote a book, while he was in prison, and it is still recommended by some coaching classes of competitive exams, to prepare for the Quantitive Tests."

Don nodded, intrigued but not really interested.

"Wow, another mathematician in prison. Small world." David said, smiling.

"Oh, history is full of mathematicians who were either justly or unjustly imprisoned." Charlie was too excited to stop now. "Theodore Kaczynski, the Unabomber, was a published mathematician and assistant professor of mathematics at Berkely before he mailed his first bomb. And Andre Weil, known as one of the giants of mathematics, was an intellectual peer of some of the worlds most influential scholars, such as Albert Einstein and J. Robert Oppenheimer. He developed what we call the Weil conjectures, and the pattern of numbers that he discovered are now applied in writing almost-unbreakable secret codes and in enhancing the accurate transmission of computer data. He was in prison in France for six months for avoiding the French draft and while he was there he formulated and proved a hypotheses that is analogous to the Riemann hypotheses."

"The Riemann, huh?" Don interrupted, in an effort to draw his brother back from his math induced sensory overload.

Charlie nodded but didn't slow down. "I could write a book - maybe I should - about mathematicians over the years who have been persecuted and punished for their works and imprisoned unfairly."

"Yea," Don tried again to calm his brother. "You could write that book and donate a signed copy to all the **prison libraries**." He loudly emphasized the last two words.

Charlie stopped then, looking at his brother with a suspicious glare. "Don't." he warned.

But Don smiled fearlessly and said, "Yeah. Donating all of those autographed books. It would be quite a generous contribution to the education of all those prisoners. But you can afford it. And a thoughtful, magnanimous donation like that would be. . ."

"Don't." Charlie warned again.

Don smiled, falling easily into the teasing older brother routine he and Charlie had perfected through their childhood. "...it would be for a good cause, Chuck."

The end

A/N; Rather than try to adhere to any specific prison's operational methods, I took the easy way out and created my own. Mt. Preston Correctional Facility exists only in my mind, as well as the policies and procedures in this story that are associated with it.

Thank God for Google and its easily accessible fountain of prison related information. The situation of falsified records concerning the time of new prisoners processing and the actual time they were assigned proper housing and bed was taken from a true story. Some of the facts were twisted to work better here in my story.

The California towns of Rockville, Tyler and Grafton are also figments of my imagination, along with the Grafton Tunnel and Rt. 61 north of Los Angeles.

The titles of the books Alan brought back from St. Louis were also made up. (If they do indeed exist, I was not aware of them).

Jakow Trachtenberg and Andre Weil, however, were real life mathematicians and their stories, as related here, are true. The same for Theodore Kaczynski.

I also took liberty with the rules and regulations of the police department's fund raising program. My husband was actually "arrested" years ago as part of our small town's fund raising drive. He was treated with respect and while "doing his time" was offered coffee and donuts in the same manor Don described. He was recently asked to participate again, and it was that request that prompted him to suggest this storyline to me. I assume many town's might have it's own version of this popular way of making money for various police related charities, so I felt safe in fudging a little on procedures. I meant no offense to any police department who may utilize this fund raiser.

Many thanks again to the ones who took the time to review. Until you write your own story, you'll never know how much they mean.


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